The Cowboy's Easter Family Wish

“Sweets are bad for you,” Noah recited. “A third of all children starting school have tooth decay.”

“It’s okay to have a treat now and then,” she told him.

Jesse could see how hard the boy was finding it to taste the candy. Those rules again. Someone had sure brainwashed him.

“Too many sweets are bad for you,” he agreed. “But you’re not going to have too many. Are you, Ark Man?”

After a moment, Noah shook his head, picked up his skewer and studied it with a critical eye. “I like triangles,” he said firmly. “They’re the best. These are circles.”

Jesse blinked. “Uh, I don’t know how to make them into triangles.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Maddie intervened with a smile. “Just try it, Noah,” she encouraged. “Circles are good, too. Think about apples and oranges.”

“I like triangles.” But he did slide the covered marshmallow into his mouth. The myriad of expressions that chased across his face was a delight Jesse was glad he was there to witness.

“So tell me, Ark Man, are circles okay?”

Still chewing, Noah nodded vigorously.

“And do you think three each will be enough for your classmates?”

He shook his head in a very firm no.

“Then let’s get busy,” Jesse urged.

They worked together in a relay. With delicate precision Noah speared the marshmallows, then handed the skewers to Jesse for dipping. He passed them on to Maddie to roll in the noodles. Halfway through they changed positions, so Maddie could dip and Noah could roll. And somewhere in the midst of the laughing and giggling and sneaky licks of a finger, Noah became an ordinary kid making a treat in the kitchen.

When Jesse glanced at Maddie he found her watching him, appreciation shining from the depths of her gorgeous green eyes. He couldn’t look away, but she did, quickly, as if she was embarrassed.

“We’ve used all the marshmallows, so I guess it’s time to clean up, and you need to get ready for bed.” Maddie mussed Noah’s too-perfect hair and pressed a kiss on his head. “How shall we keep these overnight, Jesse?”

“Just leave them. They’ll dry out and firm up a bit. Then you can lay them in a box or container for school tomorrow.” He was embarrassed by his stomach’s loud rumble.

“Didn’t you eat dinner?” Noah paused in his cleanup of the leftover noodle bits.

“I didn’t.” Jesse shrugged. “That’s why I went to the grocery store. It’s Gran’s favorite. When she wasn’t at home, I hoped I’d find her there and that maybe she’d have dinner with me when she was finished shopping. Or maybe make me dinner.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll get something to eat on my way back to my campsite.”

“You’re camping?” Noah’s bored look vanished, replaced by excitement.

“Ever since I left Colorado, Ark Man.”

“In a tent? With a campfire? And cookouts?” Awe filled Noah’s voice.

“All of the above,” Jesse agreed.

“Cool.” The word whooshed out of Noah as if he could only imagine such a life.

“It is fun, except when it rains or there are mosquitos. Thankfully, the desert has little of either right now.” Jesse turned to Maddie. “I’ve taken some time away from work to see this country,” he explained.

“What is your work?” she asked.

“I’m—I was a youth pastor.” He could almost feel her draw back when he said the word pastor. “I, ah, needed a break.”

“I see.” Maddie’s face tightened into a mask. She abruptly turned her focus on Noah. “Get ready for bed, please.”

“Eight o’clock is bedtime,” Noah explained with a sigh. “It’s the rule.” He hesitated. “Will I see you again, Jesse?”

“I hope so, Ark Man. I intend to apply for a job at Wranglers Ranch. That’s right next door, your mom says.” He smiled at the boy, but Noah was deep in thought.

“You’re a minister,” he said quietly, then glanced up. “Like my dad was?”

“Not anymore.” Jesse felt funny saying that, as if God had somehow rescinded the call He’d made on his life so many years ago. “For now I’m going to try being a ranch hand.” Until I figure out what God’s doing and what I’m supposed to do.

“My dad said that when you work for God you can’t quit,” Noah said firmly. “He said that God wouldn’t let him quit. He said it was a pastor’s rule.”

“For him, sweetie. It was a rule for him.” Maddie nudged his thin shoulder. “Now thank Jesse for showing us how to make the treats.”

Noah obediently thanked him, but it was clear that though he left without further protest, the question of Jesse’s unemployment was not settled.

“I should get going, too,” he said.

“Please stay and share a cup of tea, maybe a sandwich?” Maddie stood at the counter, hands knotted as if she was nervous. Her black cap of hair gleamed under the lights. “I’m no cook, but I owe you at least that much.”

“You don’t owe me anything. But I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea. Or a sandwich,” he added, when his stomach complained again.

“I can do a sandwich.” Maddie’s face looked like the sun had come out, so brilliant was her smile. She put the kettle on, then pulled open the fridge. “What would you like?”

“Anything is fine. Thank you.” He hoped she’d offer a thick slice of roast beef with hot mustard on fresh French bread. Or maybe—

“Is peanut butter okay?” Maddie stood in front of her fridge, clutching an almost empty jar of peanut butter, the same wimpy brand Noah preferred. “I could mix it with honey,” she offered.

“Great.” Jesse sat at the counter and accepted the sandwich when she served it, biting into it with relish, smiling and nodding as he chewed. “It’s good.”

“I should have made you something nice. I wish I could. You deserve it.” She sat one stool away from him, elbows propped on the counter, inhaling the steam from her tea. “Here I have this designer kitchen that most women dream of, and I’m a useless cook.”

That sounded like something someone had called her.

“Why don’t you take cooking lessons?” he asked, after swallowing the sticky mass. “Gran made my mom take them.”

“Really?” Maddie looked as if she’d never heard of such a thing.

“Sure. When my parents lived here there was a cooking school called Alberto’s Mama. That’s where my mom went to learn to cook before she had me.” He grinned. “Gran insisted it was a necessity and my dad was happy to pay when he started tasting Alberto’s Mama’s recipes. Was your husband a cook?” He pretended to ask out of idle curiosity.

Immediately, Maddie went tense. Her fingers tightened around her cup and her cheeks lost the delightful pink that had bloomed there. “Gourmet,” she murmured.

And that only made you feel worse.

Jesse’s heart hurt at the wounded look on her face. “I’m sure you have talents in other areas.”